24 Mini Stories of Advent
by LiGi
Summary: A collection of very short stories featuring various characters for an Advent Calendar Challenge. Featuring Golden Trio, Weasleys, Marauders and many more!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – Hello everyone! So I've been having a problem with writer's block recently and to get back into the habit of writing I am trying to write for prompts and challenges. And what better challenge than an Advent Calendar Challenge!**

 **All of the stories are written for the Urban Writers' Retreat advent calendar and all will be featuring different characters, depending on what inspiration I get from the prompts, and all will probably be less than 1000 words.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!**

 **Hope you enjoy them! And so for day 1!**

* * *

 _Prompt - On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me..._

* * *

"Hey, Evans!"

Lily sighed, quickening her pace as she left the common room, her bag swinging against her hip as she hurried. She heard the Fat Lady's picture swing open behind her and someone scrambled out of the portrait hole. She didn't need three guesses to know who it was; Potter didn't take no for an answer.

"Evans! Hey, wait up, Evans. I've got something for you."

She kept striding down the corridor but stopped when a hand landed on her elbow, pulling her back. She whirled around to face James Potter, who immediately let go of her arm and ran his hand casually through his hair. Lily glared at him.

"I've got you a Christmas present," he said with what he probably thought was a charming smile.

Lily looked down at the small red box he was holding out to her. It had a gold ribbon around it and actually looked quite enticing. Then she looked back up into Potter's eyes, trying to keep her face schooled in a bored expression.

"It's not Christmas for another twenty-four days."

He beamed. "I know. And I intend to shower you with gifts every single one of those twenty-four days. By Christmas day you'll be in love with me."

Lily scoffed. "I highly doubt that. You're a smarmy toe-rag, Potter. I wouldn't love you even if you were the last boy on Earth."

She spun on her heel, her hair whipping him in the face and stormed off. The effect was ruined however when her bag was tugged off her shoulder and she was almost pulled over.

"I'll just put this in here, you can open it later." He slid the little red box into her bag and then stepped towards her and draped the bag strap back over her shoulder, carefully brushing her hair to the side so it didn't get caught under the strap.

Lily shrugged his hands away.

"Get off me."

Potter smiled, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Merry Christmas, Evans," he said before turning and sauntering back towards the portrait hole. He looked back over his shoulder and blew her a kiss as the Fat Lady swung forward.

Lily huffed angrily and continued down to the library. That boy was insufferable.

* * *

Finding a quiet table near the Potions section of the library, Lily sat down to wait for Severus. She began pulling her books and quill out of her bag when Potter's little gift box tumbled onto her lap.

She picked it up, glared at it and finally let her curiosity get the better of her. Glancing around quickly to make sure Severus wasn't about to walk over, she gently pulled at the golden ribbon which slid off and pooled on the desk. She lifted the lid off the box and saw the briefest glimpse of a golden heart-shaped necklace before a little shower of stars and sparks erupted out of the box along with a warbling voice.

"On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…"

Lily slammed the lid back down and thrust the box right to the bottom of her bag, her face bright red. She was going to hex the smirk right off of Potter's face next time she saw him.

* * *

 **A/N – Well, there you go, day 1 done! Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it, it would be lovely to hear what everyone thought so if you want to leave a little review… :)**

 **And hopefully I'll be able to keep this up all month!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N – Hello again, so did everyone like yesterday's story? Here is the second one!**

* * *

 _Prompt – Write about a time a character fell in love_

* * *

Sirius watched James. James was playing with the snitch again, letting it soar away from him a few feet before he reached up and snatched it. Sometimes it bored Sirius to see his best friend showing off so outrageously, he wasn't even a seeker for goodness sake, but today Sirius was perfectly happy to watch James smirk every time he caught the tiny ball.

"Is Evans watching?" James asked casually.

"Doubt it," Remus replied, without even looking up from his book.

 _I am,_ Sirius thought, smiling as James ruffled his hair up. James' hair was thick and soft, Sirius knew from the number of times he himself had ruffled it. Each time had given him a little unexplainable thrill.

James let the snitch go again, it fluttered around his head for a second before shooting straight upwards. But James was too fast for it, his hand following it up and closing around it after only five seconds of its freedom. He'd had to stretch to reach this time and his shirt had pulled out of his trousers, revealing a slither of skin on his stomach. Sirius gazed at it curiously.

"Yes! Potter gets the snitch!" Peter crowed happily. "You're wasted as a chaser, James."

"He's a bloody amazing chaser," Sirius retorted instantly, kicking Peter's shin.

James turned and gave Sirius a grin that made Sirius' chest ache, then nudged him with his shoulder, making Sirius feel warm from the contact.

"Thanks, mate," James said, but Sirius didn't hear him.

It had just hit him. Hit him like the Hogwarts Express at full speed.

He stared at James, taking in his soft messy hair, his hazel eyes that Sirius knew so well, his perfect smile. The way that Sirius' insides felt hot and twisted with longing every time that smile was directed at him.

Sirius leapt to his feet, startling his three friends. Peter dived away from him, obviously worried Sirius was going to kick him again, Remus dropped his book and James let go of the snitch. Sirius grabbed it from the air in front of him before it could get away, in what he normally would have boasted was a better catch than James had ever managed, and shoved it back into James' hand, the glow inside him once more flaring as his fingers brushed against his best friend's.

"Are you alright, Sirius?" Remus asked, standing up too and resting a hand on Sirius' arm.

Sirius looked down at Remus' hand, noting how his stomach wasn't doing flips the way it would have had James touched his arm, then nodded quickly.

"Um, yeah, I just, um… bathroom. Uh, I'll be back in a bit." And with that he sprinted away from his friends.

He didn't stop running until he was in Gryffindor Tower. He collapsed against the door to their dormitory, shoving it open and sprawling on the floor. He lay there for a minute, his arms over his head, catching his breath and his madly spiralling thoughts, then sat up and looked over at James' four-poster bed.

Slowly he stood up, walked over to the bed and sank down onto it, pulling James' pillow to his face. He inhaled the scent, letting the butterflies in his stomach spring back to life and resigned himself to the fact that the thought that had hit him when James had grinned was indeed true.

Sirius was in love with James.

* * *

 **A/N – Just a little unrequited love there. This is a one-sided pairing I often toy with, Sirius obviously loved James, and sometimes I wonder if it was a bit more than platonically. Let me know what you think :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N – Thank you to everyone who is reading this! And so to day three…**

* * *

 _Prompt – "If I hadn't spilled that drink, none of this would have happened."_

* * *

"So who are you going to ask to this Ball then?" George said as the twins sat down next to Lee Jordan at the breakfast table. Lee's eyes flickered to the Ravenclaw table but he said nothing.

"Angelina," Fred replied.

George sighed. " _I_ was going to ask Angelina."

"Well, too late." Fred grinned, elbowing George in the side. "I'm older, I get first choice."

"Yeah, by seven minutes," George scoffed, shoving Fred's shoulder.

Fred pushed him back and Lee snatched his drink off the table before it was knocked over.

"Lee, who are _you_ asking?" George turned from his brother, elbowing him as he did so.

"Umm, I don't know," he said, his eyes once more flicking over his shoulder to the Ravenclaw table and the pretty blonde girl sitting diagonally behind him. Fred and George noticed his gaze and both turned to stare at the girl, as unsubtly as the Weasley twins could possibly be.

"Ah, yes," said Fred.

"I see," said George.

"Felicity Eastchurch," said Fred.

"Felicity Eastchurch," Lee repeated, a slightly wistful note to his voice. The twins shared a look and suddenly Lee was slightly nervous. He hadn't been friends with the twins for six years without picking up when they were up to something.

But the rest of breakfast passed without incident, the twins quietly eating their toast without another mention of the Ball. Lee eyed them suspiciously all through the meal.

By the time he had finished his own bowl of porridge he had forgotten his apprehension. He got up, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, just as George pushed away his plate and Fred picked up his goblet.

Lee had barely taken one step before the twins both sprang into motion.

"Oh no!" Fred cried over-dramatically. "I've spilt my pumpkin juice."

George threw himself back from the table to get away from the pool of liquid seeping towards him. He knocked into Lee and Lee stumbled, knocking into a girl behind him.

He felt his cheeks heat up as he turned around and saw it was Felicity Eastchurch he had bumped into.

"Oh, er, sorry," he mumbled, shooting a glare at the now laughing twins. Fred had already vanished the spill with his wand and George was clutching the side of the table as he sniggered.

"That's ok," Felicity said, eyeing the twins as well.

"Um, let me make it up to you," Lee said quickly, before he could lose his nerve. "Let me take you to the Ball…"

Felicity blushed, tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded.

"Yeah, ok, that would be nice."

"Really? Ok, great. Thanks!"

"See you in Care of Magical Creatures later, Lee."

"Yeah! Yeah, see you later, Felicity!" Lee sank down onto the bench beside George, staring at Felicity's retreating back. "Whoa."

"Well, there you are. Wasn't too difficult, was it?" George asked.

"Good job I spilt my juice," Fred added, winking at Lee. Lee punched them both on the shoulder.

* * *

 **A/N – Not quite as happy with this one… oh well, tell me what you thought! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – Hi! I hope you're all enjoying these little stories, I am enjoying writing them! :)**

* * *

 _Prompt – A book that writes itself_

* * *

Ginny threw herself down on her bed and buried her face in her pillow, sobbing. She hated Hogwarts. Why had all of her brothers gone on about how brilliant it was? It wasn't. And wearing old hand-me-down robes just made everything worse.

She'd been coming out of the Great Hall after lunch when she'd spotted Harry Potter. She'd instantly blushed and dropped all of her books, which made several people around her laugh and Ron, who'd been walking with Harry, roll his eyes. Then to make matters worse, as she'd stepped forward to pick up her books, her foot had gotten tangled in her far too long robes and sent her sprawling to the floor.

Aveline Knott, a Slytherin girl who sat next to Ginny in Potions, had laughed cruelly and kicked Ginny's books, which made the cover fall off of her second-hand Charms book.

Suddenly she'd felt hands under her arms, and Fred and George had hoisted her up, lifting her momentarily from the floor and swinging her like they'd used to do when she was little, before setting her feet down. Fred had brushed off the front of her robes and George had picked up her books and for a second she'd felt happy, until the twins had started ribbing her about falling at Harry Potter's feet.

Snatching her books from George, she'd fled, sprinting back to Gryffindor Tower, and only tripping on her robes again once.

After crying into her pillow for several minutes, Ginny sat up and scrubbed at her eyes. She slid off the bed and opened her trunk, rooting around for her diary. She _knew_ it was in there, she'd made her father turn the car around so she could go back and get it when they left the Burrow last week. After rummaging for a while, and still not finding the small purple book, her hand settled on a different small book. It was a slim, black leather diary. It was not the diary she had been looking for but maybe her mother had bought her another one and stashed it in the trunk for her. It would do for writing down her thoughts now.

Pulling a quill and ink bottle from her bag, she curled up on her bed with the diary on her lap and began to write.

 _Dear diary,_

 _Today was horrible. I HATE it here. And I HATE my brothers. Ron just walked away and didn't help me when I dropped all of my books and the twins laughed at me. And I made a fool of myself in front of Harry Potter AGAIN!_

Ginny paused, dipping her quill again, but before she could write anything else her words disappeared from the page. She let out a little gasp and ran her fingers over the page where the words had been. As she pulled her hand away new words formed on the page in neat writing that was not her own.

 _Hello, who are you?_

Ginny stared at them until they too sunk into the page and disappeared. She snapped the diary closed and flung it to the end of her bed, breathing heavily, frightened.

For several long minutes, Ginny sat as still as a statue, her eyes fixed on the book, until her curiosity got the better of her and she slowly shuffled across the bed to pick up the book again. She opened it to the page where the mysterious writing had appeared and frowned. Making up her mind, she loaded her quill up with more ink and cautiously touched it to the paper.

 _Hello?_

Once more her words vanished and new ones wrote themselves.

 _Hello. I'm sorry your brothers were mean to you. I never had any brothers. My name is Tom Riddle, what is yours?_

Ginny bit her lip.

 _Ginny._

 _Do you want to be friends, Ginny?_

Ginny picked at a snag on her fingernail, still chewing her lip. She knew what her father would say if he knew she was talking to a strange boy through a book. Did she want to talk to a strange boy in a book? She asked herself.

More words appeared under Tom's question. _You can trust me, Ginny. Tell me about your brothers._

This boy wanted to talk to her, be friends with her. He would listen to her. No one usually wanted to listen to Ginny. Even her mother didn't always have time for her, with her six older brothers. It would be nice to have a special friend who was just hers.

She smiled, dipped her quill and began writing.

* * *

 **A/N – If you fancy leaving a little review to let me know what you thought, it would make me super happy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N – So here is day five!**

* * *

 _Prompt – Five gold rings_

* * *

Bill eventually found Fleur, up in Ginny's bedroom. The dressing table and bed were still littered with make-up and hair brushes and perfume bottles from where Fleur, Gabrielle and Ginny had been getting ready that morning. Fleur was crying, her perfect face pale and tearstained.

Bill sat down on the floor beside her, careful not to sit on her dress, and gently pushed her hair aside and kissed her cheek.

"I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry the wedding was spoiled."

"Why does everybody in zis family think I am so shallow?" Fleur cried, pushing Bill's hand away. "I am not crying because ze wedding was spoiled, I am crying because ze Death Eaters were 'ere. Zey invaded your parents' 'ome, zey terrified our families. My parents took Gabrielle back to France, I shall not see her again for months! And your leettle brother, and 'Arry! Zey have vanished too. I-" she gulped back more tears, unable to go on further.

Bill pulled her to him, holding her tight, stroking her hair and shushing her.

"It's ok, everything will be ok," he murmured soothingly. "Your parents and Gabrielle will be much safer in France. And Ron, Harry and Hermione will be alright, they're strong. And I _don't_ think you're shallow," he added firmly.

She ran her fingers over the scars on his face, her eyes filling with tears again.

"Eet is war, Bill. I am so scared. 'Ow many more people will be 'urt? 'Ow many others like you?"

Bill opened his mouth to speak, but could not think of any words to reassure his new wife, his own head full of the same questions.

"And like George," she murmured, her hand absent-mindedly going up to trail a finger over the shell of her ear. "You were both so lucky, you could 'ave died. What would I 'ave done eef you 'ad died?" Fleur wailed the last question, burying her face in Bill's chest.

Fleur wept freely into his dress robes for several more minutes before Bill gently pushed her back and lifted her chin to look straight into her eyes.

"I did not die. I am here for you and I love you. And we must fight to keep that." His voice was steely in its resolve. "We will fight to keep ourselves alive. We will fight to keep our families safe. And we will win this war."

There was silence in the room for a minute, both of them caught up in the determination in Bill's words, soaking up the strength and the confidence.

And then Bill spoke again, this time his voice warm in Fleur's ear.

"But until then we must enjoy every moment of life we have. And it is still our wedding night…"

Fleur looked up at him with such love and adoration, Bill felt his heart swell.

"I love you so much, Bill. I am so 'appy you are my 'usband."

Bill kissed her deeply, taking her left hand in his and running his fingers over the gold ring on her finger.

"My beautiful bride."

* * *

Percy smiled as he watched his new wife dancing with his father. She was laughing, no doubt his father was asking her about the inner workings of the Muggle CD player that was providing the music in the simple hall.

She looked so radiant, her soft caramel coloured hair swirling around her shoulders beneath the veil that was clipped at the crown of her head. The gold ring glittered on her finger and suddenly Percy could not bear just watching her.

He made his way over to the dancing pair and tapped his father on the shoulder. The older man turned and beamed at his son, wrapping him in a hug before leaving him with his bride.

"You look beautiful, Audrey," Percy whispered.

"And you, my magical man, look very handsome." She put a hand on his cheek.

"I've never been so happy," he told her and she blushed.

"Me neither, and thank you." Percy raised his eyebrows in question. "Thank you for doing this the 'Muggle way'" – she air-quoted with her fingers – "my way."

"I would give up magic for you. In a heartbeat."

"I know. But I hope you never do. Never change who you are, Percy Weasley. You're perfect."

He kissed her and entwined their hands.

* * *

George stared down at his left hand. The gold ring winked at him. He looked over and saw the matching ring on Angelina's finger. He sighed.

It had been the right thing to do, he mused, his eyes on her stomach now, where only he knew there was an almost imperceptible bump hidden beneath her dress.

Everyone clapped and George was startled back to the present to see Mr Johnson sitting down, his father-of-the-bride speech finished. Lee Jordan stood up next, grinning wildly as he cleared his throat and shook out a piece of parchment, ready to begin his best man speech.

"I've known George since our first night at Hogwarts. We had just got back to the dormitory after the Sorting feast and he and Fred were practically bouncing off the walls…"

George let his head drop into his hands. Lee shouldn't be his best man. Fred should have been. He felt Angelina place a hand on his arm and he looked up at her, miserably. He shouldn't even be marrying her. Fred should have been.

But Angelina had sought him out after the war, saying he needed someone to lean on and George had surrendered to her, hoping she could bring some life back into his mind. He'd used her for pleasure to try to keep away the pain. And now he had to do right by her.

Angelina linked her hand with his, squeezing his fingers and holding him steady. All he wanted to do was run from the room. But she held onto him, as if knowing he needed something to root him to the spot.

He leant his head on her shoulder as Lee finished his speech and everybody laughed.

George couldn't remember how to laugh.

* * *

Ron felt lightheaded as Hermione linked her arm through his and they walked down the aisle together, the vicar's words still echoing in his head.

 _I now pronounce you husband and wife. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you; Mr and Mrs Granger-Weasley._

It was real. He beamed as Bill's little girl, Victoire, threw a handful of confetti at them, although it only made it to their knees. Bill hoisted her onto his shoulders and her second handful showered over their heads, some settling in Hermione's smooth hair, which was pulled back into a sleek, perfect bun just like she had worn it to the Yule Ball all those years ago.

Outside the church Dean Thomas, their official Muggle photographer, snapped away with his camera, whilst Charlie did the same with their magic camera. Ron and Hermione's mothers were both crying, laughing together as they both dabbed their handkerchiefs to their faces.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him into a hug and Ron was surprised to see even his eyes looked wet. He punched Harry's shoulder.

"Cheer up, mate," he told him and Harry hugged him too, before pushing his glasses up and rubbing his eyes, smiling ruefully.

"You three, look over here," Dean called, pointing the camera at them.

"Oh no, you just want these two," Harry said, trying to move away, but Hermione put her arm around his waist.

"No, Harry, you too. You're important! Would Ron have come to save me from that mountain troll our first year if you hadn't suggested it?"

"I think you'll find _I_ was the one that knocked it out," Ron said, slinging his arm over Harry's shoulders too.

Dean and Charlie snapped several pictures before Harry managed to extricate himself, slinking over to Ginny and leaving Ron and Hermione to themselves. Ron wound his arms around Hermione, kissing her hair.

"Aww," Dean cooed at them, and Ron rolled his eyes. "Let's see your hands; I want a picture of the rings."

Ron and Hermione clasped their hands together in front of them, their rings gleaming in the sunlight and all of their surrounding families cheered and showered them in more confetti.

* * *

Ginny was on top of the world. After all the years of wishing and waiting, Harry Potter was finally hers. Here she was, standing in front of her family and friends, marrying the man of her dreams.

Harry grinned at Teddy as the four year old boy – his hair a soft lilac today to match Hermione and Luna's bridesmaids' dresses – walked forward holding out the cushion with the gold rings sitting on it. Two steps before he reached the front he tripped on his own feet and the rings went tumbling to the floor, bouncing into the folds of Ginny's train.

Everybody laughed affectionately, but Ginny felt a slight pang as she thought of Tonks, always tripping and dropping things. Harry crouched to help Teddy pick up the rings, whispering reassurances to the little boy that it didn't matter. He looked up at Ginny with a smile as he rummaged through the lace of her dress train.

Setting both rings back on the cushion, he handed it back to Teddy and the pair of them stood up and straightened their dress robes.

Harry took the smaller of the two rings and carefully slid it onto Ginny's finger.

As Ginny took the ring from Teddy's cushion she leant down and kissed him on the cheek, which he wiped away with the back of his hand, making Ginny grin. She slid the ring onto Harry's finger, her fingertips brushing the faint but still there scar proclaiming that he 'must not tell lies'.

The little wizard presiding over the ceremony waved his wand and a shower of stars rained onto their clasped hands, glinting off the matching rings on both fingers.

All was well.

* * *

 **A/N – There we go, a little insight into my headcanons for post-books. I might write more post-books stuff… but I'm not as inspired by it as I am with pre-books. Let me know what you thought :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N – Everyone still having fun? I know I am!**

* * *

 _Prompt – Write a story about a girl and her pet cactus_

* * *

Petunia Evans ran her finger lovingly over the edge of the pot her tiny cactus was growing in. Uncle Albert had picked out the small plants especially for her and Lily. They had been presents for the sisters and Uncle Albert had told them to take great care of the cacti, to see which of them could keep hers alive the longest.

Petunia had taken this to heart. She had asked their mother to take her to the library where she had found a book all about cacti and discovered her plant was a Silken Pincushion Cactus, its Latin name _Mammillaria bombycina_ , which she had practiced pronouncing until she could say it without having to look at it written down anymore.

She was extremely proud of her little Pincushion and spent a few moments every single day making sure it had everything it needed.

She watered it daily, holding the pot over the sink as she did so to let the excess water drain away, like it said in her book. (Lily often forgot to water hers, and so when she did she drenched the poor thing.)

Petunia moved her cactus from windowsill to windowsill to ensure it had the best sunlight at all times. (Lily left her cactus on her bedside table, where it was in shade for most of the day.)

On calm days Petunia took her cactus with her into the garden, and sat it next to her chair as she read her book under the big oak tree, so that it had fresh air. (Lily's bedroom got stuffy where she forgot to open the curtains all day.)

And when Petunia accidentally touched her little plant and got spines stuck in her finger, she had carefully removed them one at a time with her mother's tweezers. (When Lily had accidentally touched her cactus, she had shouted at the plant and pushed the little pot onto the floor in anger.)

Today Uncle Albert was coming to visit and Petunia knew he would want to see the girls' cacti to see if they had cared for them as well as he had told them to. Petunia also knew that her cactus was much healthier than Lily's. It had grown several inches and had three big pink flowers on it. It looked lush and the tiny spines made the whole thing look like it was wearing a silk dress. She was immensely proud of it.

Last time she had seen Lily's it had no flowers and was a sad greyish green colour.

When Petunia heard a knock at the door she carefully picked up her cactus and straightened the pink ribbon that matched the flowers perfectly that she had tied around the pot.

She hurried into Lily's room, watching her sister pick up her own cactus and scowl at it. Then Lily ran her fingers over the little plant, whispering pleas at it to look better. The cactus seemed to swell slightly, its colour brightening. Petunia narrowed her eyes and followed Lily from the room, frowning at her sister as she continued to stroke the cactus.

Their mother was putting the kettle on by the time they got downstairs, Uncle Albert sitting at the table waiting for them. He gave them both a grin, the smile widening when he caught sight of the sisters' cacti. Petunia confidently placed her pot on the table in front of Uncle Albert. He grinned and reached for Petunia, hugging her and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

And then Lily came forward, and gently set her pot beside Petunia's. Her cactus looked amazing. It was tall and strong, with four huge flowers on its silky flesh. Uncle Albert clapped with delight and praised Lily. Petunia wanted to cry.

* * *

 **A/N – This was a bit of a random prompt but my muse ran with it and gave me this! I really don't like Aunt Petunia but when they were just children and Lily outshone her in everything, I do feel a bit sorry for her. Let me know what you thought of her portrayal here…**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N – Just a very short one today. I knew exactly what I wanted to write about and was convinced I could write a nice long drabble… but then it dried up half way through writing and the idea sort of got lost. Hopefully you like it anyway.**

* * *

 _Prompt – He ran, hard._

* * *

He ran, hard. He didn't feel right. His skin was crawling and his insides were wrapped in knots. Every bone and muscle in his body ached. He couldn't get his mind to clear, his thoughts incoherent as his senses took in the rolling hills around him. The moonlight shining down on him felt like it was burning him. The still fresh scars on his face were agony.

Finally, Bill's legs hurt too much for him to carry on running and he collapsed into the grass. Strange yelping sounds which he didn't recognise as his own voice ripped from his throat.

He twisted and curled in on himself, taking huge gasping breaths. With every breath came the barrage of smells. The freshness of the grass his face was pressed against; the earthiness of the soil below; the musky scents of small animals burrowing under the ground. He could hear the animals too, the scratching and snuffling, and it made something inside him tense, like a coiled spring, ready to leap and hunt.

He wanted to run. He felt the tug of the full moon.

He wasn't sure how long he lay on the grass before he heard, smelt, sensed something nearby, watching him, tracking him.

Pulling himself to his feet again, ignoring the ache in his body and the pain in his face, Bill stumbled forward. He ran, hard.

* * *

 **A/N – In case you didn't guess, this was supposed to be Bill's first full moon after being attacked by Greyback. I always thought there would be slightly more of the wolf in him than just liking raw steaks… Let me know your thoughts :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N – This one is very loosely connected to the prompt, but I always figured that the prompt is there to spark the muse not necessarily guide the plot.**

* * *

 _Prompt – There's a scarf hanging over a fence in the middle of nowhere. Why is it_ _there?_

* * *

Oliver Wood leant back against the goalpost and pulled his knees up to his chest, staring desolately at his hands. They had lost. They'd been so close; he'd built the best team Gryffindor had had for years. He'd trained them to perfection. And then at the very last second everything had come crashing down. Harry was in the hospital wing and they'd had to have the substitute, Andy Hooper, play as seeker instead. And the whole team had been thrown off balance.

Ravenclaw had flattened them.

And they'd lost the House Quidditch Cup.

The cup that should have had their name on it the second Harry Potter joined their team.

Oliver groaned, then looked around the empty stadium and shouted. He yelled his frustration at the small rolling clouds above his head. This was his first year as Captain, and he'd so wanted to prove he was a good one. He really, really wanted a win.

But fate was always against the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They should have won the last three years under Charlie Weasley's captaincy, but every year something had gone wrong. Oliver's first year on the team there had been a ferocious storm on the day of the final match, which had put off the Gryffindor team but that the Slytherins hadn't batted an eyelid at. The next year they had won the match but lost the cup when Slytherin had gained more points from their match with Hufflepuff than Gryffindor had against Ravenclaw. And then last year, reminiscent of this year, Charlie himself had ended up in the hospital wing the day before the final match and, again, Andy Hooper had played seeker.

They needed to find a new substitute seeker, Andy really was no good.

Oliver now understood why Charlie had used to lock himself away in his dormitory after a defeat. Being the Captain of a losing team was awful. He felt like such a failure.

As he lifted his head from where it had been buried in his arms, a movement caught his eye from the corner of the pitch, in the stands. It was a Gryffindor scarf, abandoned over the edge of the stands. Oliver watched it flapping in the light breeze. He scowled, put his hands over his face and let his head drop backwards, thunking against the goalpost, letting out a muffled yell again.

He'd thought he was completely alone in the abandoned stadium, the game had finished hours ago and dusk was starting to set in. But then he heard a quiet voice right behind him.

"You missed dinner."

Oliver jumped, smacking his head against the goalpost again and let out a startled shriek.

"Bloody hell, Percy!" he shouted at his fellow fifth year. He glared up at him, Percy came forward to stand in front of Oliver, his arms folded sternly. "What do you want?"

"I came to see if you were alright," Percy said, irritated.

"Of course I'm not alright. We just lost the Cup. I'm a failure as Captain. But what do you care, you hate Quidditch?"

"Just because I can't stand _playing_ it, doesn't mean I don't enjoy watching it or I'm not invested in my team winning." Percy kicked Oliver's foot. "I wish we'd won as much as you do."

"Not _as_ much," Oliver said with a surly frown. "It doesn't affect your reputation."

"Oh Oliver, it doesn't effect your reputation either," Percy dismissed. "Everyone knows you're a good Captain."

"Not if I can't win them the Cup," he argued.

"Did you think my brother was a good Captain?"

Oliver looked at Percy with surprise. "Of course! Charlie was the best Captain."

"He never won the Cup," Percy pointed out.

Oliver was stuck. He had no reply to that. So he kicked Percy's foot instead. Percy just raised his eyebrows.

"Come back to the castle before I have to give you a detention." Percy fingered his Prefect badge before turning on his heel and marching away from Oliver.

Oliver watched his retreating back for several minutes before standing up and following. He grabbed the abandoned scarf as he walked past it and draped it over his shoulders.

There was still next year.

* * *

 **A/N – This one was a little tricky to write as it concerned one of JK Rowlings tiny mistakes. In Philosopher's Stone she says Slytherin has won the Cup for the last few years, but she also says Gryffindor hasn't won the Cup since Charlie left. But considering Charlie's age, he only left the year before Harry started… Oh well, for the premise of this story it worked that Charlie had never won the Cup either. Tell me what you thought!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N – I hope everyone is still enjoying these! Here is day 9!**

* * *

 _Prompt – Choose an animal and write about it._

* * *

Padfoot wandered through the Forbidden Forest, trying to block out the old memories. The memories of running through this forest every month, of Prongs and Moony running beside him, Wormtail climbing along tree branches to keep up with the larger animals. He shook his shaggy head, focusing on the present not the past.

He heard a low hiss from behind a shrub and turned to sniff at it. It was a huge ginger cat, glaring at him.

Padfoot growled. Normally cats turned tail and ran at this sound, but this big ginger cat just kept staring, completely unfazed. And then, in a move that shocked Padfoot into stillness, the cat stepped forward and rubbed his head against Padfoot's muzzle and purred. Padfoot gave it a friendly lick across one ear, marvelling in the fact it was not running from him.

The cat gave him an appraising look, blinking slowly. It stretched and settled down onto the floor, tucking his front paws underneath his chest. Padfoot sank down to the ground as well, tipping his head to the side and watching the cat. It seemed perfectly content in his company.

They sat together like that for a long while, the cat purring and Padfoot softly whining and yipping, rolling over onto his back and lolling his tongue.

As it began to get dark the cat stood, rubbed against his legs once more, flicked its tail and then sauntered off.

Two days later he saw the cat again. Padfoot was sitting under a low hanging tree, contemplating the castle, which he could just see through the gaps in the branches above him, when he heard a yowling meow coming towards him. He gave a whuffley bark to greet the cat as it appeared between two tree trunks. The cat simply meowed again and dropped a dead mouse at Padfoot's feet.

Padfoot ate it gratefully, nudging his head against the cat's in thanks. The cat sat down and began licking its paws, after a while it even licked one of Padfoot's, then curled up beside him.

And so started a pattern; the cat came every day or so, usually with a gift of some dead creature or other and spent a few moments with Padfoot, purring and rubbing against him the whole time. Sometimes they went running together, or strolled through the trees, other times they played, the cat batting at Padfoot's paws or tail as Padfoot ran around in circles.

One cold morning, the cat was just turning to leave when Padfoot yipped to attract his attention back. Then he shifted into his human form.

The cat merely blinked, giving him a slow steady stare, before coming back over and climbing onto his lap. The cat began to purr even louder until he placed a hand on the cat's head, scratching lightly behind his ear. For what felt like the first time in twelve years, Sirius cracked a smile.

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 **A/N – Pretty please leave a review :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N – Day 10! The days seem to be going by so quickly!**

* * *

 _Prompt – Friendship_

* * *

Luna dipped her brush into the paint and began painstakingly following the outline she had drawn in pencil. She hummed to herself as she painted, floating on her back a foot away from the ceiling. She'd asked her father to perform the floating charm on her before he had gone out that morning, so she wasn't even breaking the 'no magic outside of Hogwarts' rule.

As she painted, she thought about each of her friends. First Ginny, who she'd known for the longest. They had stood together in line for their sorting and Luna had told Ginny all about the Wrackspurts that infested the Sorting Hat, making the wearer's brain fuzzy and unfocused so the Hat could better access their deeper personality traits. Ginny had giggled but not in a cruel way like the other children. From that moment on Luna knew she would be friends with Ginny.

And for the last four years Ginny had continued to be nice to Luna, never calling her Loony, like the entire rest of the fourth year did, she even tried to stop them doing so. And she never said Luna was odd for talking about Nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Ginny even asked questions about the creatures, smiling at Luna as she did.

Next Luna thought about Ginny's brother, Ron. He was funny. She still remembered the first day she had met him on the Hogwarts Express her fourth year. He had made a joke about one of the Slytherin boys looking like a baboon's backside and it had made her laugh until she choked. Even thinking about it made her laugh and she had to pause in her painting so her portraits weren't ruined as she shook with mirth.

Ron wasn't as kind as Ginny, sometimes he made fun of Luna, but she knew that he was a loyal friend. The way he had fought in the Department of Mysteries left her in no doubt that he was someone she wanted as a friend.

That brought her onto Neville. He was also a fiercely loyal boy, and he had fought as hard as any of them at the Ministry. Luna felt more of a kinship towards Neville than she did any of the others; he was more like her, a bit of an outcast. But she liked him dearly.

Luna stretched her arms, shaking them out a little before she continued with her painting, still carefully dipping her brush into the paint pots floating next to her and meticulously colouring the picture, bringing it to life.

She thought of Hermione next. At first she hadn't been particularly fond of the older girl; she was narrow-minded and always telling Luna she was wrong about the creatures and stories her father told her about. And she had said The Quibbler was rubbish. She was disparaging and unwilling to believe anything she hadn't read in an ancient textbook.

But then she had come to Luna with the idea that The Quibbler publish an interview with Harry about the true story of You-Know-Who's return and as the story swept through the school like wildfire, Luna had warmed to Hermione. Hermione seemed content that the two of them must agree to disagree but that was no reason they could not be friends.

And lastly Harry. Harry was such a wonderful person. From the very moment she had heard his story at age four, she had wanted to be his friend. And when she finally met him on the train in her fourth year, the want solidified even more. He was kind and brave, he always put others before himself. He didn't call her weird or laugh at her. And at the very end of the year, despite him having just lost his godfather and being so sad, he had offered to help her find her lost possessions. She did not think she would ever meet a purer, friendlier wizard than he.

She pushed off from the ceiling, floating down a few feet so she could admire her painting, smiling. And then dipped her brush in the gold ink and carefully wove one word over and over around the five people she had drawn.

 _friends … friends … friends …_

* * *

 **A/N – That prompt just had to be about Luna and her ceiling painting. I always found that idea heart-wrenchingly beautiful. I hope I did it justice… let me know what you thought.**


	11. Chapter 11

****Edit - The title of this story has been changed, but it is still the same thing! ****

 **A/N – I had fun writing this one, I hope you all like it.**

* * *

 _Prompt – Make a list of your favourite childhood foods_

* * *

Harry waited until he heard Aunt Petunia's footsteps over his cupboard as she went upstairs, before opening the door and sneaking into the kitchen. The table was laden with goodies.

There were plates of fresh cucumber sandwiches and bowls of crisps, the little crystals of salt stuck to the greasy golden slithers of potato. Brightly coloured crudités splayed out on a plate, waiting for their cream cheese and prawn dip to be taken out of the fridge. Mini quiches fresh from the oven steamed and filled the air with the smell of salmon and asparagus. Flaky golden pastry covered the hot sausage rolls. And a whole array of different bite-sized things on cocktail sticks most of which Harry couldn't even identify.

Harry felt his mouth start to water. He knew he wouldn't be allowed any of the food. He wasn't even invited to the party. In about ten minutes, he knew Aunt Petunia would come looking for him, ready to take him round to Mrs Figg's.

Uncle Vernon's work colleagues didn't know about Harry, beyond the fact that he lived with the Dursleys, a fact which Uncle Vernon used to prove what a generous, kind man he was. But Harry would have to be out of the house before anyone turned up for the Christmas Party.

Harry made his way around the table, gazing now at the sweet treats that covered the other side of the new white tablecloth. There were miniature golden, sticky treacle tarts and choux buns coated with thick, dark chocolate sauce. A huge roulade filled with cream and juicy red strawberries sat on Aunt Petunia's fancy blue patterned plate. A box of expensive liqueur chocolates was waiting to be opened. Mince pies aplenty covered every spare space, the golden pastry dusted with icing sugar. And in the centre of the table stood the Christmas cake, with its thick, white royal icing and red ribbon.

Harry so desperately wanted to taste something, he knew it would all be wonderful. He stretched his fingers out, ghosting them over the edges of plates, not quite touching anything.

"Get your grubby fingers away from that!"

Harry leapt back from the table, startled by Aunt Petunia's sharp voice; he hadn't heard her come back in the room. He mumbled an apology and shrank further away from the table.

"Go and fetch your coat, I'll walk you around to Mrs Figg's. Hurry up."

Harry gave all of the delicious food one more longing stare then turned and fled from the kitchen.

* * *

 **A/N – Aww, poor little Harry. It's a little bit off-prompt this time, but let me know what you thought anyway :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N – Oh dear, the days are going by very quickly! Hopefully I can keep up!**

* * *

 _Prompt – Write about a brief but scary encounter with a professor._

* * *

Neville reached into his bag to pull Trevor out. But the toad was not there. Neville panicked, he'd lost Trevor again, why was he always losing the silly toad?

Chewing his lip, Neville frantically tried to remember the last time he had seen him. He'd had him at breakfast; Trevor had tried to escape but Harry had spotted him and scooped him up to give back to Neville. And he'd had him in Charms; Trevor had climbed out of Neville's bag and spent the entire lesson sitting on Neville's foot. And he'd had him in Potions; Trevor had wanted to eat the dried beetles they were using for their Strengthening Solution.

Professor Snape had been in a bad mood at the end of the lesson because Hermione had produced the best potion out of the whole class, and so Neville had left in a hurry to get away from the teacher he feared so much. He had packed up his things and run from the room so quickly he had forgotten to check if Trevor was in his bag.

And now he was going to have to go back down to the dungeons and look for him. He dropped his head into his hands.

Hoping against hope that Professor Snape had already gone to the Great Hall for lunch, Neville made his way down to the Potions dungeon, ducking into a side corridor to avoid some Slytherins coming up from their common room.

Luckily the dungeon was empty when Neville got there and he immediately got down on his hands and knees to look for Trevor under all the desks. He crawled around under the desk where he sat, then Hermione, Harry and Ron's desks, as they were right beside his. Still having no luck, he crawled towards the front of the room to look under Professor Snape's desk as well.

"And _what_ , may I ask, are _you_ doing in here?" A sudden voice said from above him, making Neville jump and hit his head on the desk.

Professor Snape himself had just entered the room from his office behind the front desk. Neville scrabbled out from under the desk and stood, shaking, in front of Snape.

"I, um, I lost my toad, sir, Professor Snape," he stuttered.

"Again?" Snape's lip curled. "You'll lose your brain next. If you even have one to begin with," he sneered.

Neville felt tears prick his eyes, he blinked to try to stop them falling.

"I'm sorry, Professor. He got out of my bag."

Professor Snape whipped his wand out of his robes, pointing it straight at Neville. Neville staggered backwards, his back crashing into a desk as his knees wobbled. Was Snape going to curse him? Just for being in the dungeon when he shouldn't be? His hands half raised, ready to cover his face.

Snape's lips gave an amused quirk as he lazily flicked his wand.

"Accio toad."

Trevor came soaring towards them from the far corner of the dungeon, landing in Snape's outstretched hand. He lifted the toad up to his face, as if to study him.

"Do you know how many potions use toad skin as an ingredient, Longbottom? Or toads' eyeballs?" he added with a touch of wicked delight, pointing his wand at Trevor's eye.

Neville shook his head and squeaked out an incomprehensible answer. Snape narrowed his eyes, flinging the toad towards Neville, who only just managed to catch him. He cradled Trevor tightly to his chest, his eyes still wide as he stared up at Professor Snape.

"If I catch him in my dungeon again, I shall not hesitate to add him to my ingredients store. Now get out of my sight."

Snape flung his arm towards the door, his robes billowing around him, making Neville flinch back again. Neville swallowed and sprinted from the room, clutching Trevor tightly.

* * *

 **A/N – Poor Neville, no wonder his boggart is Snape, but who else could I have written for this prompt! Pretty please leave a little review…**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N – This one was quite tricky as it is such a vague prompt! In the end I had to use a random number generator against a list of names to give me a character to write, and even then it took me ages to come up with the actual idea! Hope you like what I came up with though.**

* * *

 _Prompt – "What do you want?"_

* * *

Draco staggered into the bathroom, collapsing against a sink and throwing up. He turned the taps on fully and waited until the water had washed away the mess of vomit before leaning forward and scooping a handful of water into his mouth. He spat that out too then splashed water over his face.

Tears streamed from his eyes as he gripped the side of the sink, his hands shaking. He couldn't believe it. He'd already failed. He'd failed and an innocent girl had been cursed instead of the rightful victim.

A wrenching sob ripped from his throat. What would the Dark Lord say about his failure?

Draco knew what he would say. He would curse him, curse his mother. He would kill him if he couldn't complete this task. How many chances would he give him?

"Who's that?" a high girly voice asked.

Draco gasped and gulped back his sobs, roughly scrubbing his eyes as he whipped around to see who it was. It was Moaning Myrtle, the silly wailing ghost from the abandoned girls' bathroom.

"What do you want?" he snapped at her.

"Oh nothing, don't mind me," she said in a sulky voice. "Just wondered who was crying."

"I wasn't crying," Draco tried to sneer, but his voice wavered, giving him away.

"Don't be afraid to cry," she said.

Draco took a step back from her; he didn't need a ghost interfering with this. He didn't need a girl to reassure him.

"You can talk to me," Myrtle said, her voice soft. She floated over to him, and hovered just above the sink beside the one he'd been leaning on, as if she was sitting on it. She tipped her head to one side. "Tell me what's wrong."

And something in the tone of her voice made something snap inside Draco and everything seemed to spill out. Before he knew it tears were pouring down his face again.

"He says he'll kill me!" he cried, his full fear of the Dark Lord burning through him. "I don't know what to do… I can't do what he wants of me… I can't…"

He slid down onto the floor, not caring if his robes got wet, and pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his hands. He felt Myrtle sink down beside him, her presence like a freezing cloud by his side.

"I don't know what to do…" he sobbed again.

* * *

 **A/N – Meh. Let me know what you thought.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N – I'm still struggling through these! This was another difficult one, but hopefully it has come out alright… A young Tonks and Charlie Weasley fic.**

* * *

 _Prompt – It was a foolproof plan, or so they thought…_

* * *

It was a foolproof plan, or so they thought. Charlie and Dora had set up the trap and were now just sitting and waiting for little Mrs Norris to come running around the corner into it.

Ever since Dora had started Hogwarts a few weeks ago, she had watched Filch and his little cat. Dora had taken an instant liking to the cat. She was barely more than a kitten, a scrap of brown fur and claws – and boy, did Dora know about the claws! Every time she saw the little kitten she tried to pick her up and stroke her, only to be rewarded with a scratched face or arm.

She'd mentioned it to her friend Charlie Weasley when she'd seen him in Herbology and he had pointed out that Mrs Norris was probably just scared and didn't know Dora was trying to befriend her. Charlie was crazy about animals so Dora figured he was probably right.

So they had devised a cunning plan to catch Mrs Norris and spend some quality time with her, playing with her, feeding her tasty things stolen from the dinner table and showing her that they were much nicer than Filch!

And being on the good side of the caretaker's cat would always come in handy if she was prowling the hallways looking for students up to no good.

At that moment they heard a meow from down the hall and Dora turned to grin at Charlie. Mrs Norris slinked around the corner, stopping every few steps to eat the scraps of chicken that led her towards the trap, which was just a huge wicker basket suspended in mid-air, that would scoop the little kitten up and hold her.

Dora watched with excitement as the cat got closer and closer to the basket until suddenly it dropped and there was a startled yowl and a hiss.

"Yes!" Charlie crowed, leaping up. Dora followed him over to the basket.

Mrs Norris looked angry, she was hissing and growling, her paws sticking out between the gaps in the basket, claws splayed.

Charlie hoisted the basket in his arms and they ran to the small abandoned classroom they had found and readied for this moment, Dora only tripping over her own feet twice. There were plates of chicken and fish dotted around the room, lots of soft blankets and hidey holes and plenty of string for playing with. It was a kitten's dream.

Or it should have been.

Mrs Norris shot out of the basket when Charlie carefully lifted the lid and dashed straight to the door, yowling and scratching at it, standing up on her hind legs to bat at the handle uselessly.

"You have to wait for her to get used to us," Charlie said knowledgeably, sliding down to sit on the floor, his back against a cushion they'd borrowed from the Hufflepuff common room. Dora whined.

"I want to stoke her!"

"We have plenty of time, just wait. In a while she'll settle down and realise that we are only trying to love her."

But that's where the plan went wrong. For they had forgotten the most important factor in Mrs Norris' existence. Filch.

If Mrs Norris was around then Filch was not far behind and when Mrs Norris started yowling, like she was now, Filch came running.

The door banged open, revealing a _very_ angry Filch.

"Try to steal my cat, will you? I'll see you punished!"

Mrs Norris leapt onto his shoulder, glaring down at Charlie and Dora, who cowered slightly, their faces bright red.

They both received a week of detentions and their names permanently on Filch's list of most hated students.

* * *

 **A/N – Well, here you go. Because I figure Charlie and Tonks would have been friends at school. Let me know what you thought :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N – Another incredibly difficult one. These prompts are getting harder! This story isn't really that related to the prompt…**

* * *

 _Prompt – What does winter smell like?_

* * *

Remus stared out of the window desolately. He was supposed to be marking the third years' essays on Grindylows, but he couldn't focus. He kept thinking about Sirius Black. Was it true that he had broken into the school only two weeks ago? Not that Remus doubted the Fat Lady's word. But would Sirius do that?

He could not believe he would attack the Fat Lady. Sirius had always liked the Fat Lady, he had flirted with her like any other female that looked his way, and so she never told them off when they snuck out at night under James' cloak.

But Azkaban could drive anyone insane, and someone already on the edge of insanity like Sirius had been… Someone so twisted they could betray their best friends. He'd always had a tinge of madness lurking in the corners of his mind, inherited from the Black line.

Remus felt the old anger and hurt swell in his chest, making his hands involuntarily ball into fists, causing his heart to leap and fierce hot tears to spring to his eyes.

He got up from his desk and stormed over to the window, glaring out into the dusky twilight, his memory drawing images of Padfoot and Prongs running across the grounds, darting in and out of the trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

And then suddenly, with a realisation that had his knees nearly give out on him so he had to grasp the windowsill for balance, he saw that the huge black dog skulking in the tree line was not one conjured by his imagination.

He was here.

Before his mind had quite caught up with the idea, Remus had snatched up his wand and sprinted from the room.

It was freezing, winter having finally set in in full, the smell of frost filling the air as he stumbled in his haste down the front steps of the castle, peering in the gloom towards the last place he had seen Padfoot.

But the huge black dog was no longer anywhere in sight. Remus paced along the edge of the forest, his teeth gritted and a growl rumbling in his throat. He didn't know what he would do if he found Sirius.

Yes he did. He would kill him.

Could he kill him? Could he kill his only friend left in the world?

But Black wasn't his friend. Not anymore. He hadn't been his friend for twelve years. He hadn't been Remus' friend since he'd murdered the only other friends Remus had ever had.

For twelve years Remus had been alone. A tiny part of him yearned to have Sirius back. To have one of his best friends back.

But _this_ Sirius, this murderer who had taken Remus' friends, this deranged man who had escaped from Azkaban to kill a thirteen year old boy, this was not his friend.

Remus knew he was never getting his friends back. The Sirius he knew had died the same day as James and Peter. And now Remus could get revenge. He could avenge the deaths of his fellow Marauders. He could do this for James. For Peter. For Lily.

For Harry.

"I'll kill you, Black," Remus screamed to the trees, falling hard to his knees on the frozen ground.

Birds erupted from the top branches, scared by his shout, but the black dog had long since gone.

Remus let his face drop into his hands, let the cold winter air envelop him as he breathed in the icy smell that foretold snow.

He could not catch Black today.

* * *

 **A/N – Again, this didn't come out as I wanted it to. I wanted to get across the turmoil in Remus' mind, he so desperately wants one of his best friends back, but at the same time he hates Sirius with all of his heart. I'm not sure if I did it justice or if it is just a bit muddley… Let me know what you thought…**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N – Phew, only just got this one finished on time!**

* * *

 _Prompt – Write about the sounds of home_

* * *

Arthur smiled as he Apparated just outside the garden gate to the Burrow. He could see the light from the kitchen window spilling across the garden, glinting off the frost that was already starting to set in.

He pushed through the gate, making his way towards the back door, listening to the sounds he could hear emanating from the house. The sounds of his over-excited children.

As he opened the door he was met by a shout and two thumps as the twins launched themselves at his legs.

"Hi Daddy!" Fred said.

"Mummy's decorating the tree!" George said.

"It's nearly Christmas!" Fred said.

And then they ran off again. Arthur chuckled.

He could hear the rest of the family in the living room, his wife's voice directing the children around as they presumably helped decorate the tree. He took his coat and scarf off, hanging them on the hook by the door and toed off his shoes. As he walked past the stairs he grabbed his old worn, but very comfortable and warm, slippers from the bottom step and hopped on each foot in turn to pull them on.

He made his way into the living room. The wireless in the corner was playing one of Celestina Warbeck's Christmas classics, the music almost drowned out by the cacophony of talking, laughter and arguing.

The bulk of the arguing was Percy and little Ginny. Well, mostly Percy, as Ginny was ignoring him. At two and a half, this was the first Christmas where Ginny really understood what was happening and she was prancing around the room, trailing strings of tinsel, singing "dec'rating, dec'rating!" and flinging the tinsel over various pieces of furniture.

Percy was following her, trying to grab the tinsel and telling her she was doing it wrong. He was getting more and more frustrated until Arthur scooped him up and gave him a hug, placing a kiss on his forehead and telling him in secret that he could put everything right later after Ginny had gone to bed.

Percy hugged Arthur back before running over to Molly to help her hang baubles on the tree.

Ron was sitting on the floor beside the box of decorations, pulling out baubles and handing them to Molly and Percy, chattering away about everything and nothing, watching and laughing at the twins as they danced in the middle of the room. They were singing along to Celestina, jumping around wearing Christmas hats that they had obviously just dug out of the box Ron was sitting by.

Bill was sitting in Arthur's big squashy armchair, one of his Hogwarts books open across his lap and a rapidly diminishing plate of mince pies at his elbow. He was the only one of the children in the room not making any noise. Arthur perched on the edge of the chair and ruffled Bill's hair, picking up a mince pie and taking a large bite of it. Bill grinned up at him then buried his head back in the book.

Arthur stood up, went over to Molly and gave her a kiss. She beamed and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him again.

That second, Charlie came charging into the room, crashed straight into the twins and all three of them fell into a loud, tangled pile of limbs and shouting, onto which Ron and Ginny immediately leapt.

Bill rolled his eyes and Percy frowned as Charlie tried to extricate himself from the younger children, all of them still shouting and laughing.

Arthur grinned and gave Molly another kiss, revelling in the sound of his family.

* * *

 **A/N – Aww, young Weasleys, ain't they cute! Drop me a review and let me know what you thought!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N – Hi *waves sheepishly* Sorry I didn't publish anything yesterday, and sorry today's is so late! One of my friends who lives in New Zealand just unexpectedly came over to visit, so I've spent the last two days catching up with him and so writing had to take a back bench!**

 **Also this prompt was tricky! Here you go, day 18!**

* * *

 _Prompt – A surprising day._

* * *

"What do you want for breakfast, darling?" Hermione's mum asked as Hermione walked into the room, her nose buried in her book.

"I don't mind, I just need to finish…" And she trailed off, going back to the fantasy world she was lost in.

At the end of the chapter, she poked her bookmark back into the book and looked up to find her mum placing a bowl of sugar-free cereal and a cup of tea in front of her.

"Thank you," she said, smiling and tucking in.

There was a knock on the door as they were finishing breakfast and Hermione's dad got up from the table to go and answer it. Hermione picked her book back up.

"She's in here. Please, come through," she heard her dad saying and a moment later he re-entered the kitchen leading a tall black-haired woman with a stern face. Hermione's instant thought was that she looked like a teacher, so she smiled and sat up a bit straighter.

"Hello, you must be Hermione? I am Professor McGonagall, from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Hermione felt her mouth drop open.

"Please sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?" Hermione's mum offered.

"Thank you. Now, I have a lot to tell you." She handed Hermione a thick, heavy envelope made from yellowish parchment.

* * *

Hermione was still stunned by the time Professor McGonagall made to leave, wishing them luck in Diagon Alley and telling Hermione she would see her in September.

"Thank you, Professor. Thank you so much!"

Hermione's dad led Professor McGonagall out and Hermione sat in shock, staring at the teapot. She was a witch… A _witch_ … She had magic! She knew the moment Professor McGonagall said the words 'school of witchcraft' that something amazing was about to happen.

All her life she had felt something, something she now realised must be magic, flowing softly through her. She'd always been able to do little things no one would believe. If a book she wanted was on a shelf she couldn't reach, sometimes it would simply fall off the shelf for her to catch. And her tea was always a nice temperature when she came to drink it; it never went cold when she forgot it whilst reading.

And now she knew why. It was the best surprise she had ever had.

Professor McGonagall had explained everything to her and her parents. All about the wizarding world, which was kept secret from the non magical world – Professor McGonagall had called it Muggle – and all about the school Hermione had been offered a place at.

The school sounded amazing, with lessons on spells and charms and potion making, as well as broomstick flying, magical history and caring for magical plants. Hermione was desperate to find out as much as she could. She had already memorised the list of set books she would need and couldn't wait to go to the magical town hidden within London to buy them all.

And then on September the first she would go to King's Cross Station where Professor McGonagall had told her how to get onto Platform 9 ¾ and she would board the train to Hogwarts.

Hermione beamed.

* * *

 **A/N – Again, I'm not overly pleased with this… Sorry it just sort of ends, I lost momentum but thought I should at least put this little bit up… Tell me your thoughts!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N - Agh! I'm getting so busy the closer we get to Christmas, hopefully I will still have time to squeeze in writing every day! Only just managed it today, sorry it's late again!**

* * *

 _Prompt – Write about a place you like to hide._

* * *

Cedric darted behind a tapestry into a secret side passage as he saw the group of girls coming towards him. He didn't want to be swooned over right now.

He loved being the Hogwarts Champion (well, one of, but he didn't resent Harry, it was clear the younger boy didn't want to be in the Tournament, and frankly, Cedric couldn't see why Dumbledore had let him…) but it was beginning to take a slight toll on him.

He couldn't walk down a hallway without being accosted by several people wanting to congratulate him or wish him luck or just chatter away to him as if they were best friends – even though half of them had never looked twice at him before this year. He couldn't enter a classroom without everyone standing up and cheering. Even Slytherins were being nice to him.

And he enjoyed the attention, he really did. It was wonderful, and he was so proud to have the honour of representing Hogwarts. But every now and then, he just wanted a moment's peace.

Every now and then he wanted out. Every now and then he was scared.

He wasn't a Gryffindor. He wasn't brave like young Harry was.

He stumbled out the other end of the passage and found himself facing the picture of Barnabus the Barmy teaching ballet to trolls. He heard voices behind him, the girls must have followed him through the passageway.

Panicking slightly, Cedric dashed along the corridor, desperately looking for somewhere to hide. It was a dead end, he turned and ran the other direction, but the giggling was getting closer. He turned again, hoping to find anywhere he could hide, when he noticed a doorway he hadn't seen before.

He barrelled through the door, leaning against it and breathing heavily once it was closed.

The room he had just entered was small. It was cosy, with a huge squashy armchair in one corner, next to a roaring fireplace and a big bookshelf. A Hufflepuff banner hung from one wall. It was exactly the sort of place Cedric had wanted for some peace and quiet. This was clearly a magical room.

And he had the funny feeling that the girls who'd been following him wouldn't be able to get in.

He smiled and sank onto the armchair, which was the comfiest chair he had ever sat in, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes. He sat there silently for several long minutes, just listening to the pop and crackle of the fire.

When he finally stood up and wandered to the bookshelf he found a strange selection of books; there were lots of Charms books, and several Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts ones, but also a few on dragons and a couple on merpeople along with Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

Picking a book at random, he dropped back into the armchair and began flicking through the pages, still smiling to himself about having found such a perfect place to hide.

* * *

 **A/N – Another very short one… I hope you liked it anyway. It started out as just Cedric wanting to hide, but then I figured the Room of Requirement might try to give him a few hints on the upcoming Tasks, if he was thinking about them when he conjured the room.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N – Sorry! I'm really sorry! I know I missed three days. Real life Christmas things kept getting in the way of writing, or my muse wasn't inspired by the prompts… Here's a tiny fic for today...**

* * *

 _Prompt – Church bells ring, unexpectedly._

* * *

Lily finished buttoning the babygrow and scooped Harry up from the changing mat. He gurgled at her happily as she kissed his nose. At four and a half months old he was starting to respond more to her.

"Let's go and find Daddy," she told him, before making her way out of Harry's nursery and down the stairs. James was in the kitchen, reading, a mug of tea by his elbow.

"Tea for you, love," he said as Lily walked in, gesturing to the second mug on the table.

"Thanks, do you want Harry?"

James immediately snapped his book shut and dropped it on the table, reaching up for his son. Lily passed him over, ruffling his soft hair as she did so.

She had just taken a sip of tea, cradling her hands around the warm mug, when she caught the sound of bells ringing. She opened the back door and the sound filled the little room.

Little Harry's eyes opened wide and he looked blearily around, trying to locate the noise.

"He likes it," James laughed. He got up and brought Harry over to the door so they could hear better.

The clear sound of six church bells, pealing in a beautiful musical pattern filled the still night air. Lily stepped out in to their little back garden, James following with a smile.

She shut her eyes, and the joyous sound washed over her, filling her with Christmas cheer. James put a hand on her back and pulled her towards him so Harry was nestled tightly between them.

Together they stood like that until the bells finished ringing, watching the first flakes of snow begin to fall.

* * *

 **A/N – Gah, I think that is the shortest one yet… sorry… but that is all I had time to write today. Better a tiny bit than nothing right? Hopefully see you tomorrow for the final little ficlet!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N – Well, here we are. The end of Advent. And I managed to write twenty out of twenty-four stories. Not too bad. Some were trickier than others, and some are better than others! But hopefully you have enjoyed reading them all.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has read them and everyone who has reviewed. Special thanks to** _ **I hate mosquitos**_ **and** _ **RebeccaGranger**_ **who have reviewed almost every chapter, you two made me smile every time.**

 **And here is your last one, day twenty-four…**

* * *

 _Prompt – What was Christmas like for your main character as a seven year old child?_

* * *

Hermione stretched and sat up in bed, sneaking a look over at her chest of drawers, where her Christmas stocking was hanging from a drawer handle. She sucked in an excited breath when she saw it was full of presents and her eyes immediately darted to the clock hanging over her bed. It was seven o'clock. She deflated a little. She knew she wasn't allowed to go and wake her parents up until eight, they had agreed the night before that they wanted a lie in. But she also knew that they liked to watch her opening the presents so she had to wait for them.

Hermione looked longingly at the stocking then lay back down in bed and turned her back on it. After only a few minutes she had turned around again to lie and gaze at the bulging red stocking. She looked at the clock again. Still too early. She sighed.

After what seemed like forever but, after having checked the clock, was actually only six minutes, Hermione decided she could at least have a closer look.

She slid out of bed and padded across her room to the chest of drawers. She peered at the stocking, trying to work out the shapes of the presents through the material, but she kept her hands behind her back.

There was something lumpy and squashy-looking, something round, lots of things she couldn't tell and something rectangular.

Before she could stop herself she had poked one finger out to prod the rectangular thing's edge, trying to feel for the indent of pages between a cover; she was sure it was a book. Very gently, so as not to jostle the other presents, she slid the rectangular one out and felt it properly. Yes, definitely a book. She grinned.

But now she was hit with even more curiosity. What was the book? Was it a fiction book, or a book of facts that she loved so much? A story or more knowledge?

Maybe she could just open one tiny corner and have a peek…

Taking the book-shaped present to her bed and sliding back under the covers, she carefully picked at the tape until she had unwrapped one end of the present.

She slid the book out of the paper and beamed. It was a mini encyclopaedia. Hermione buzzed with excitement, already flicking though and reading the odd snippet of information. She lapped it all up.

She quickly shut the book before she became completely entranced and slipped it back into its wrapping paper, refastening the tape and inspecting it to see if anyone would be able to tell that it had been opened.

She got out of bed again and tucked the present back into her stocking, her parents would never know.

* * *

Harry bit his lip and watched as Dudley ripped open another present. The floor around him was already strewn with ripped paper, the sofa behind him piled with toys and games that he had already opened. Harry wasn't jealous, he had got over the jealousy years ago, but it would have been nice to be included on the family Christmas.

He offered the plate of mince pies to Aunt Petunia, taking her empty sherry glass when she held it out to him. Uncle Vernon took two mince pies. He was holding the cine-camera, recording Dudley's reaction to his presents.

Harry refilled Aunt Petunia's glass and handed it back to her. Then went and sat back on his chair in the corner of the room. When no one was looking, he stuffed a mince pie into his mouth, letting the sweet, sticky fruit sit on his tongue and give him some Christmas joy.

He sighed, turning it into a cough when Aunt Petunia shot his a sharp look.

"What else have you got, my Diddykins?" she asked, turning away from Harry and simpering over her son instead.

"More stuff."

Dudley wasn't particularly impressed with any of the gifts, just giving each one a fleeting look before tossing it aside and tearing into the next one. Harry said nothing. He would have been more grateful than he could express in words to have received even one of the expensive things that Dudley had been given, but his spoilt cousin just dismissed them. He expected them and never doubted that they would be there for him and he took for granted how lucky he was.

Eventually Dudley reached the end of the pile and Aunt Petunia clapped, Uncle Vernon turning the camera off and leaning forward to examine the model aeroplane Dudley had received from one of his friends.

There was a tiny package still under the tree, wrapped in yesterday's newspaper. Dudley pulled it out and hurled it at Harry's head. Harry's hand shot out to catch it before it hit him. It had his name scrawled on the paper. Opening it slowly, Harry found a pair of plain black socks.

"Well, what do you say, boy?" Uncle Vernon barked at him.

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia, thank you, Uncle Vernon."

Harry looked down at the new socks. What more could he expect?

* * *

Ron leapt onto his chair, between George and Percy. Percy was wearing his new Gryffindor tie and his Weasley jumper this year had a Gryffindor lion knitted on it. Everyone had been worried Percy would be sorted into Ravenclaw, so he was proud to display he was Gryffindor like Bill and Charlie, and their parents, and every Weasley in history.

Ron's own jumper was, of course, maroon. It was nice and warm though so he liked wearing it.

Mum brought the turkey over to the table and placed it in front of Dad, who brandished his wand like a carving knife and sliced the meat perfectly, hovering it over to each of their plates.

Ron grinned as his plate was filled up, enchanted spoons serving him mash and roast potatoes, gently pushing away the sprout spoon. As usual, everything looked delicious.

They all began tucking in, everyone making appreciative noises. Between the nine of them, the food didn't last long. All of the boys had seconds, Charlie had thirds and even Ginny had a few extra roast potatoes smothered in gravy.

Roast dinner was one of Ron's absolute favourites and Christmas just made it all the more special, with the added bonus of pigs-in-blankets and stuffing. He put both hands on his stomach as Mum levitated the plates away from the table and into the sink.

"That was brilliant, Molly," Dad said, his own pose mirroring Ron's.

Bill put an arm over Mum's shoulders, kissing her cheek. Charlie was still picking at any remains left on the table. Percy started a conversation with Dad about the Gryffindor common room and the twins were whispering to each other, ominously.

Ron and Ginny were the first to pick up a cracker, the bang and the smoke making everyone else jump. Ginny giggled, pulling on the tall feathered hat that had sprung out. Ron collected the bag of Gobstones to play with Bill later.

Several more bangs followed as the rest of the family pulled their crackers too and soon everyone was wearing a hat, the room full of laughter and chatter. Ron laughed at Fred, who had a bright pink beret on, clashing badly with his hair. Ron had a deerstalker, which he'd pulled the earflaps on down to tie under his chin.

It was a good Christmas.

* * *

 **A/N – There you have it. Hope you liked these three too, pretty please leave a little review… virtual mince pies to all reviewers! Also let me know if you'd like to see any of these little ficlets expanded into longer stories, I might have a go!**

 **Thanks and Merry Christmas everyone!**

 **LiGi out.**


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